So Happy I Could Die
by nodistancelefttorun
Summary: Kurt and Blaine have tickets to go see Lady Gaga, but then Blaine gets sick. Inspired by the Modern Family episode with the same initial plot, although this is a lot fluffier. Slight AU and futurefic; Klaine lives in New York and are both in their second year of college.


**A/N: I wrote this while watching the Modern Family episode where Cam gets sick when he and Mitch were going to see Lady Gaga, and I thought it was perfect for a little Klaine one-shot. It's basically a little over 4,500 words worth of Klaine fluff and glitter. Because I can.**

**I guess it's slight AU futurefic because 1), BLAINE AND KURT ARE THE SAME AGE. Blaine being a junior is the worst thing Glee has ever done. Hmpf. 2), They are both in their second year of college and are living together in New York. Yaay.**

* * *

Kurt was running around the crowded New York apartment, frantically searching for his lost pair of jeans. They were his favorites, why was just that pair out of all the pants he owned gone? He really needed it and he needed it _now_.

The apartment wasn't much, really. It was humbly sized; not too little, not too big. It suited two people perfectly. There was a master bedroom, a bathroom and a kitchen that smoothly faded into the living room as there was no wall separating the two. Even though it hadn't been that luxurious when they moved in about a year ago, Kurt had certainly worked his magic on the place. He had decorated it according to both their preferences, although he had been very reluctant to let his dear room mate do any of the actual work. He had allowed some theoretical input, but all the physical work had been done when he was home alone.

They were both attending schools, as they were only in their second year of college; Kurt hadn't been accepted into NYADA, but had instead applied to a fashion college that he really, really loved. He fit in perfectly and, even though it sounded cheesy, he really grew there and he felt challenged, in a good way. His better half was actually attending NYADA, along with one of Kurt's best friends Rachel Berry, and maybe Kurt should feel jealous about that but he wasn't. He loved fashion more than air, and it was something he could really see himself doing when he grew up.

Their little apartment was kind of on the outskirts of town. They couldn't really afford the more central apartments but it wasn't much of an issue because they shared a car that they were both licensed to drive. Kurt's dad had given him some money for the payment of the apartment and he would have contributed a whole lot more if Kurt hadn't stopped him.

Half the point of moving away from home was being independent and he didn't want his dad to spend all his money just so Kurt could get a dreamy apartment. He could have lived in a sewer for god's sake, just as long as it was in New York. All his dreams were here.

Because really, who cared if he had the perfect apartment or not – he had the perfect best friend, room mate and boyfriend all wrapped up in one amazing person named Blaine Anderson. Said person was currently locked up in their bathroom brushing his teeth. Or showering. Or fixing his hair. Kurt wasn't sure what he was doing, he was too busy looking for his damn jeans.

He kept knocking over things as he rushed around the place, peering into cabinets and drawers and under the living room couch in his frantic search. He had always been good at multitasking, and as he was running around he was both drying his newly washed hair and applying a thin layer of foundation to his face. He was going to be all sweaty and disgusting in just a few hours but that wouldn't stop him from looking as gorgeous as humanly possible up until then.

He had now covered the living room – neither the couch, the TV set, the velvet arm chair or the curtains hanging in front of the window hid his beloved pair of jeans – and the small hall. He had even bothered to check every single cabinet in the kitchen, and in a weak moment of hesitation he had even checked the oven. No jeans.

So for the fifth time he went into the bedroom, yanked the wardrobe door open and stepped inside. It was huge and after a year he had still not gotten used to the size. He scanned the shelves and pulled some drawers open, rummaging through the layers of clothing and not even caring how crumpled up they were when he closed the drawers again. Had he been paying attention he would have heard the loud sneeze coming from the bathroom in the next room.

But then he saw a slight hint of shining gold in between two grey sweatshirts. He pulled eagerly at the golden fabric and- _aha!_ His pants.

He actually snuggled them for a few moments before realizing he really should get dressed.

He slid down the sweatpants he had been wearing and squeezed himself into the tight golden pants.

Kurt was really picky with both his and Blaine's clothing sorting, and he always made sure to put things were they belonged. So why were his pants in the sweatshirt drawer?

He immediately knew who to blame, but he tried not to jump to conclusions because he had been scolded for that earlier. He could just picture Blaine in his head, his eyebrows knitted together. "Not my fault!", he would say. "Always blaming me for everything!"

And then he would slam the door and Kurt would have to go apologise.

He tried to rethink his steps to see if he had actually misplaced them himself. The last time he saw the pants were last Thursday when he put them in the laundry pile. With a smirk on his face, he remembered that he hadn't been responsible for laundry that week. Just as he was debating himself whether or not to rub it in Blaine's face, he accidentally glanced at his wrist watch and caught the time.

"We're going to be late!", he called out, feeling a lot more panicky now than when he had thought he had lost his favorite pants.

He checked his appearance in the wardrobe mirror a final time. He sprayed another coat of hairspray over the finished look of his hair and did a little twirl to see it from different angles. He decided it was good enough.

He did feel horribly under-dressed though. This wasn't just any Saturday concert – it was the concert of his absolute idol; the Mother Monster; Lady Gaga.

He had been looking forward to this night for months and now they were running late. The drive to the arena wasn't more than thirty or forty-five minutes tops, but he wanted to be there early to make sure they didn't miss anything. He had even applied some of his super expensive ultra gay glittery eyeshadow to his otherwise pale eyelids for this special occasion. Yes, he was ready to go dance the night away to Born This Way, the soundtrack of his life.

Only problem was that Blaine was still stuck in the bathroom. By now Kurt suspected he was dealing with his hair, because otherwise he would be done by now. And "dealing with it", was usually him trying to tame his unruly head of curls.

Kurt personally preferred the unruly curls. He loved running his fingers through them and that was close to impossible when they were all gelled down, not only because they were slick with gel but because Blaine wouldn't let anyone touch his hair in case they would mess it up.

But Kurt knew better than to think he was just shallow and flimsy. He knew the hair situation had a deeper meaning. And besides, Kurt was really sensitive about his hair too, although he mostly sprayed it and didn't strangle it with gel. But Blaine put up with all his other crazies, so he was the supportive boyfriend and let him gel his hair all he wanted.

"Honey, we really have to go!", he called again as he closed the wardrobe door and went out into the hall. He could hear Blaine moving around behind the closed bathroom door.

There were a loud _clunk,_ like glass against tile, and then the door creaked open and revealed the man of Kurt's dreams. He was wearing silvery sparkling pants that Kurt had bought him and that matched his own perfectly, a simple black button-up and a rainbow bow tie. He too was wearing some of Kurt's glittery eyeshadow and his hair sparkled with his own personal glitter hairspray.

His eyes were glassy and his nose tinted red, but Kurt didn't notice because he was busy admiring his outfit whilst simultaneously glancing at his watch.

"You look great", he beamed and leaned in to kiss him, but Blaine ducked his head and the kiss was left hanging in the air.

Kurt frowned but decided not to comment. Instead he grabbed both their jackets and hung them over his arm.

"Have you got the tickets?", he asked.

"Yeah", Blaine answered, his voice suspiciously hoarse.

Then he stiffened a little and gave a discrete, strangled cough that he tried to turn into a laugh but it was just weird.

"Are you okay?", Kurt asked absent-mindedly while searching for his car keys on the little table next to the door.

"Totally", Blaine croaked.

He gingerly stepped into his shoes and tied the shoe laces. It took more energy than usual because his hands were shaking.

Kurt already had his shoes on. They were a blue-silvery colour with at least a 5 inch sole. The entire shoe was covered in plastic diamonds and other fake jewels and it actually sparkled in the dark, to Kurt's delight. It was so Lady Gaga he wanted to cry with pride.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!", he chanted excitedly and barely resisted jumping from foot to foot. He never lowered himself to such trivial expressions of giddiness and he was almost always composed, but this was Lady Gaga for god's sake! It was the biggest night of his life.

Making sure they had both keys and tickets, they stepped over the threshold into the stairwell and locked the door behind them.  
Blaine slipped his arm under Kurt's, and Kurt squeezed him happily. Even though he was really excited about seeing Lady Gaga – it was his fifth time – he was actually most excited to finally be seeing her with Blaine. Because Blaine was the most important thing to him, next to his family. And he had already forced his entire family to one of her concerts – yes, even his dad had went and although he wasn't entirely sold on her, he enjoyed it because of Kurt's almost palpable excitement. The only one remaining now was Blaine.

They went down the stairs with their arms still locked together but then they parted as they reached the car. Kurt took the drivers seat and Blaine the passenger seat.

He put the key in the ignition and started up the engine.

"In two hours we'll be breathing the same air as her", he said adoringly as he pulled out from their parking space. The thought excited him to the point he could barely focus on the road ahead.

He could hear Blaine humming some vague response next to him.

"Aren't you excited?", Kurt asked anxiously. A shiver of apprehension ran through him. What if Blaine had only pretended to like Lady Gaga when they first met to impress him, and now he was regretting it because he would be stuck watching her perform with his sobbing boyfriend for the next couple of hours.

Kurt didn't cry _that_ often, but Lady Gaga meant so much to him and by the time she played Born This Way he was always far too long gone to care if he embarrassed himself. When he and Mercedes had went to her show last year, he had cried so much he almost passed out in her arms.

"No, I totally am! I swear!", Blaine said, his eyes blown wide. "I just-"

He didn't get any further before he sneezed, his hole body jolting with the reaction.

Kurt turned to look at him, a slight frown forming on his forehead. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Um, yeah", Blaine said awkwardly. He popped open the glove compartment and rummaged through it. "Do we have any aspirins or anything?"

"No, I don't think so... Why? Do you have a head ache?"

"Yeah..."

Kurt turned his eyes away from the road for a few seconds and noticed Blaine's hands shaking.

"What's wrong with your hands?", he asked, frowning.

Blaine pulled his hands back from the glove compartment and clutched them in his lap. "Nothing."

Kurt's frown deepened. "Blaine, what's wrong? Do you really don't want to go because we don't have to-"

"No, Kurt, I really want to go, I swear! Just drive, okay, I'll be fine", Blaine assured him, placing his hand on Kurt's.

"You're all cold", Kurt said anxiously. He threw a glance at the road and then back at Blaine.

He turned the steering wheel and parked on the side of the road.

"We'll be late!", Blaine groaned impatiently.

Kurt gave him a stern look and placed the palm of his hand against Blaine's forehead.

"Oh honey, you're burning up", he said softly.

"No I'm not! I'm fine!", Blaine exclaimed and pulled away from Kurt's hand.

"You're clearly running a fever. We'll just go home and-"

"NO!", Blaine almost screamed, making Kurt jump. Then he continued a little gentler, "I really want to go, and I'm not that sick. I swear I'll be fine."

"But it'll get worse if you go to a concert with thousands of people."

"But we have seats so I won't have to move or anything. Come on, we've been looking forward to this for months, we can't just bail because I'm a little warm!"

Kurt hesitated. "Oh, I don't know... I just don't want you to get even more sick when we get home."

Blaine sighed. "Kurt, I can take care of myself. I promise you I'll be fine. Now let's go or we'll be _really _late."

Kurt sighed and did as he was told. He pulled out and got back out onto the road.

When the arena came into view, Blaine broke down into another cough fit, the twelfth time since they left their apartment.

Kurt kept glancing nervously at him. Before he had looked past all the subtle signs of his illness but now they were all he could see; the slight coat of sweat on his face, the shaking hands, the feverish look on his face. When they had parked in a vacant parking spot and exited the car, Blaine had a particularly nasty fit and doubled over until it subdued.

Kurt sighed and went around the car to his side, putting his arm around Blaine's shoulder. "No, we're not doing this."

Blaine's head popped up from underneath his arm. "W-what?"

Kurt gently led him over to the car again and pushed him into his seat and buckled his seat belt for him. Then he went over to his own side and climbed in, clicking his own seat belt into place again.

Blaine looked panic stricken.

"We're going home", Kurt said firmly.

"NO! Kurt, please, no, you've been looking forward to this for so long, I'll hate myself forever if I mess this up, no, we have to-"

Kurt just shook his head.

"See, there's the problem. I want us both to be excited about this, otherwise there's no point in going", he said.

"But I _am_ excited! I'm just a little feverish but it'll pass, I know it will..."

"We have all the time in the world to see Lady Gaga. And Blaine, you _are _sick. When you cough you sound like a volcano erupting."

"Do not! And I don't need you to take care of me, I am an independent-"

Kurt smiled softly, and reached over to straighten Blaine's bow tie slightly. "Remember when we had just moved into the apartment and we were going to this big party that one of your friends from school was having? You were so excited for weeks and then I got really sick, and instead of just giving me some sleep syrup and put me to bed you stayed home with me the entire night and took care of me. I felt so guilty but you told me not to be because you loved me and you take care of the people you love when they need you. So why wouldn't I do the same for you?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Blaine's mouth, but then it turned into an adorable pout.

"That's different. It was just a party. This is Lady Gaga, and she's like your god. You should totally go. I can drive home myself and then I'll ask Rachel to pick you up afterwards..."

Kurt rolled his eyes and leaned in to kiss his temple. He rubbed his thumb gently against his cheek before placing his hands on the steering wheel again.

"We're going home", Kurt repeated and started the car engine.

"I still think-"

Kurt pulled out of the parking spot and back out onto the road. "Nope. Don't even bother arguing with me. I'm healthier and more sharp-minded than you right now, you don't stand a chance. Try to get some sleep, we won't be home for another thirty minutes."

Blaine groaned. "But I will _hate_ myself if you miss this concert because of me, Kurt!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "This isn't the last time we'll be able to see her, Blaine. She'll come back and then we'll go and have an amazing time. Now, go to sleep. One stop and I can get some sleeping syrup and I'm not afraid to use it."

Blaine shot him a filthy look, but seemed to decide it was actually pointless to try and debate.

Instead he pulled his legs up to his knees and leaned his head against the window.

Kurt glanced over at him, smiling slightly at the sight. He was truly the most adorably thing ever.

He took his jacket and gently shoved it onto Blaine, and said, "Use it as a pillow."

Blaine mumbled something incoherently, took the jacket and tucked it in between his head and the window. Mere minutes later he was snoring softly. Another proof that he was indeed sick. In a healthy state, it always took him at least half an hour to fall asleep.

Kurt turned on the radio and felt a soft pang of disappointment as they were playing Lady Gaga's song So Happy I Could Die. He had really been looking forward to hearing it live again.

As he softly hummed along to the song, he glanced over at his sleeping boyfriend, and suddenly going home to nurse him back to health didn't seem like a sacrifice at all.

Thirty minutes later they arrived outside of their apartment. Blaine was snuggled up against Kurt's jacket, his mouth slightly open in his sleep.

Kurt decided not to wake him, so instead he scooped him up in his arms and carried him up all five pairs of stairs, and unlocked the door with some magical movement of his only vacant finger. Somehow he managed to lock the door behind them and get Blaine all the way into bed without bumping his head into a wall or drop him or anything. He was still fast asleep when Kurt laid him down on the king sized bed and tucked him in carefully. Just as he was about to go to the kitchen and get some water to put beside the bed, Blaine woke up. His hair was breaking free from the gel and loose curls had fallen into his eyes.

"Whereami?", he slurred, slowly rubbing his temple.

Kurt rushed over to the bed again, tucking him in once again. The fever had risen and Blaine was much more tired now. "I'll go get you some aspirins and a glass of water, and then I'll be right back. Okay?"

Blaine nodded sleepily, and nuzzled back into his pillow.

Kurt tore himself away and hurried to get both the glass of water and the aspirins. When he returned, Blaine was sitting upright, waiting for him. His eyes slowly closed and for a fraction of a second he fell asleep before waking with a start, staring wildly around him. Then he spotted Kurt, who put down the things on the night stand and then went over to press a kiss to Blaine's temple.

"We need to get your clothes off, honey", he said gently.

Blaine scoffed. "I'm sick, Kurt, you can't be hitting on me..."

Kurt could barely resist laughing out loud. "No, no, I wasn't. But those pants can't be comfortable to sleep in."

Blaine mumbled something, and then he started squirming violently underneath the covers. Blaine really acted like a five-year-old when he was sick or really tired.

After a whole lot of that, he had finally freed himself from his pants. Kurt unbuttoned his shirt and took off his shoes and re-dressed him in sweatpants and a t-shirt.  
Then he picked up a comb from the night stand and ran it through Blaine's hair a few times to rid it of the hair gel.

"No, leave it. I look hideous without it!", Blaine protested.

"Blaine, there's only me here, okay? It's much more comfortable for you if you don't have to worry about messing up your hair. And I've seen you without your hair gel hundreds of times and I think you look just as beautiful without it as you do with it."

And because Blaine could rarely argue with that loving, soft voice of Kurt's, he allowed him to comb out the gel.

"Now you can go to sleep", Kurt cooed a while later and put him back to bed again.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I'll just go wash off my make-up, okay?"

Blaine nodded vaguely. "'kay. Hurry."

Kurt went off to the bathroom and peeled off his shoes on the way. He was a little disappointed that he hadn't had the chance to dance in them tonight – he had worked on them for weeks – but he would just wear them next time instead.

He actually decided to skip his usual nightly skin routine, something that only happened about once every tenth year. He changed into sweatpants and one of Blaine's t-shirts, smiling at the familiar smell. Then he went into the living room and unplugged their modest little TV from the wall, and even though it was so heavy he wanted to cry, he heaved it into their bedroom and onto a small table in front of the bed. He plugged it in, picked up the remote and went to sit next to Blaine on the bed.

"What movie do you want to watch?", he asked.

Blaine stared at him for a while before finally saying, "Wow, you're strong."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Don't sound so surprised."

Blaine then pouted a little, in the way he knew Kurt couldn't resist. "Can we watch The Little Mermaid?"

Kurt smiled fondly. "Of course we can."

It was already in the DVD player, because they had watched it only last night, so he just had to press Play. Then he crawled in under the cover and wrapped his arms around Blaine, who made himself even smaller and curled up next to him. He rested his head on Kurt's chest, and sighed contently.

"'m real sorry you missed Lady Gaga", he mumbled after a while.

"Don't be silly." Kurt didn't bother arguing too much. He figured he shouldn't drain what little energy Blaine had left.

He knew Blaine would feel bad about this for a while. He always had a hard time forgiving himself and moving on. Not that there was much to forgive - he was sick, for god's sake, he couldn't help that.

But Kurt knew that Blaine considered it his fault and that he would be feeling bad for "forcing" his boyfriend to stay home with him, but honestly, Kurt loved just lying with him in bed watching The Little Mermaid and running his fingers through Blaine's curls. They were so soft and so _Blaine_, even though they still carried traces of gel. It was so quiet and comfortable. But of course, he would have preferred it if Blaine hadn't been sick and this had just been a regular night at home, because Kurt hated when people got sick because he wanted to help but he couldn't. Staying home with him and running into the kitchen for water or chocolate or ice cream every half hour was the least he could do.

And besides, it was way better than the alternative; going alone to the concert and being groped by other guys, or worse, screamed at because of his "faggy outfit". Even if said concert was with the one and only Lady Gaga.

She might be the Mother Monster and the main individual who helped him love himself despite years of constant bullying, but Blaine... Blaine was Blaine. He was his rock; his savior; his best friend; his knight in shining armour that held his hand when he was at the hospital for a flue shot, because Kurt was terrified of needles.  
He was everything.

And right now his everything wanted a bowl with three flavors of ice cream with chocolate flavored topping, and Kurt would gladly go into the freezing kitchen and get it for him.


End file.
